The morning Victoria packed her bags to leave for Onitsha, her mother pressed a small bottle of anointing oil into her palm and held her hand for longer than necessary. “The city is not
There is a particular kind of pain that does not have a clean name. It is not quite grief, not quite anger, not quite fear — but it borrows from all three. It is
Introduction Think about the last meaningful conversation you had with someone you care about. Was it face to face over coffee, or was it a string of messages exchanged between other tasks? Did you